I was not disciplined enough to blog on a daily basis during this trip, so this one will be a quick retrospective. All in all, we had a fantastic journey, and each day seemed to have its own defining moment or two.
Buenos Aires is absolutely huge. There aren't skyscrapers like in Manhatten and Chicago and the Asian cities, but just lots and lots of really massive, tall buildings and even more 50's-style skinny semi-high-rise apartment buildings as well as plenty of impressive ultra-modern new construction. We did alot of walking, exploring the fantastic night-life in the Recoleta neighborhood where we had dinner at a micro-brewery, as well as the impressive recently established Puerto Madero area along the water where we shared an ice cream at one of the omnipresent Freddo's. With the city being so enormous, and our limited time there, we thought it would be wise to do a bus tour, and thus got to experience a number of other neighborhoods including La Boca, Retiro, Palermo, San Telmo, and of course El Centro where our hotel was. We walked across the widest boulevard in the world (Avenida 9 de Julio) a number of times, and walked Avenida Florida many times as well with it's famous Pacifico Gallerias mall and shopping district. One night, we ventured out for a Tango dinner show at "Señor Tango's" and not only was the food fantastic (Argentinian Bife Chorizo for me and Trout for Vee), and the venue, service, and costumes spectacular, but the Tango show was absolutely extraordinary...HIGHLY RECOMMENDED! The city is a glutten's paradise with eaterie after eaterie, block after block. However, as has been my experience thus far in S.A., the regional beer breweries have monopoly control of their respective markets and thus, there is no beer selection: Pilsen and Quilmes are it; and in Uruguay, it's only Patricia, Zillertal and Pilsen. On the downside, the city has absolutely heart-wrenching slums, and is quite dirty. The people we encountered everywhere were for the most part very polite and friendly, and took very good care of us.
Montevideo, a 45 minute flight across the river from B.A., has a more romantic feel to it, being more prominently waterfront on the mouth of the same Rio de la Plata. It is located in yet another time zone though, making it two hours ahead of Cochabamba, Bolivia, and one hour ahead of Buenos Aires. The neighborhood where we stayed is called Pocitos, and is a special place for us, since this is the city where Vee spent the first year and half of her professional career abroad, and also the place where we "met" through the Internet. Pocitos is beautiful with it's tree-lined streets, mid-rise apartment buildings with long rectangular terraces, and corner shops and cafes. The action though, is on the beach, where there was no end to the fútbol, and volleyball games in the sand. We walked all over the city, down the main avenue with shopping and street vendors, to the market area, and visiting some of the wonderfully green little plazas with fountains and sculptures. Many of the people in Uruguay, and Argentina for that matter, carry a thermos of máte (a tea-like drink) under their arm while sipping it through a metal straw in the bulbous "mug" that they're holding. One night we had a delicious waterfront dinner at a place that Vee used to frequent with her fellow consultants, and another night, we ate at the place that was her favorite restaurant while she was working there. The people of Uruguay are fantastic, as they were always very attentive, friendly and would even speak English with us when they found out we were visiting from the U.S. It is a VERY windy city though.
Lastly, Punta del Este, Uruguay, was our final destination, a 2 hour bus ride up the coast from Montevideo, and my (our?) favorite of the 3 cities. The beaches were neverending in all directions, the water on the Atlantic side was a beautiful blue green, the reddish-brown rocky coves were awe-inspiring, and the progressive architecture of the surrounding homes, resorts, condos and apartment buildings was extraordinary. There were plenty of restaurants to choose from, and lots of surrounding "pueblos" to explore, which we did on a rented "moto". One night, we got caught in a horrible rain-storm, and attempted unsuccessfully to wait it out under a little kiosk, but had to eventually make a mad dash for a fancy restaurant across the street, arriving soaked through, but happilly attended to regardless, and were treated to an exquisite meal (...and a dry shirt). Another night, we just drank wine and ate cheese and chocolate, and watched the sun go down on the beach. Another night, we walked the port/marina area and had a delicious (but way overpriced) seafood meal. The weather was sketchy but for one day, where we spent the whole day cruising the coastline on our rented moto-scooter and exploring little coastal nooks and crannies. The other days, we spent our time walking the downtown area, etc. We discovered a few places serving our favorite "Illy" coffee so of course we had to partake a few times. Again, the people were fantastic, everywhere. Especially the guy at the front desk of our hotel, of Russian descent. The hotel was a wonderfully intimate place, and despite being a descent hike from downtown, was only a block from the beach. The problem with PdE, is that it is too far away from everything, and too expensive and involved to travel to. And, so I understand, in high-season, it is absolutely mobbed and pretty nuts. We were lucky, as it was still not high-season and thus everything was quiet and just how we like it. A wonderful place we'd enjoy visiting again, hopefully when we can get there and return home more directly and less-expensively. Absolutely beautiful, but not a year-round destination due to it's latitude.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Friday, December 8, 2006
Bolivia - Beautiful Graduation Amidst a Hellstorm
In 1990, when my senior high school graduation ceremony was cut short by rain, it was if nothing else, a memorable occasion. Last night was Vanessa’s graduation (Vee’s youngest sibling/sister), and the storm that engulfed that ceremony made the recollection of my own graduation rain storm seem like a light summer drizzle.
Things were going wonderfully, with the parents ceremoniously walking their proud newly graduated sons and daughters down the center aisle to accept their diplomas, have their tassel flipped from one side of their cap to the other, frozen momentarily for the obligatory snapshots, and then directed to have a seat next to their other cap-and-gowned pals. We the friends and family members were comfortably seated in rows of white plastic chairs happily chatting away, people-watching, popping up and down and moving around to navigate the best angle for our digital cameras and video cams. It was a very pleasant atmosphere outside beneath the sturdy yellow steel-pillar and silvery corrugated aluminum roofed canopy where during the school day, the students probably played futbol(soccer) or baloncesto(basketball).
Then, the dark night sky began to flash. The soothing breeze soon intensified into gusts of wind that blew the decorations hanging from above back and forth while the curtains behind the stage whipped at the legs of the administration folks seated there. And, like a bugle call to a cavalry charge in battle, a piercing crack of thunder announced the onslaught of a storm sweeping in from the peaks of the Andes above. Only moments later, just as the caps were being tossed into the air, all hell from above broke loose.
The wind grew stronger still, and the rain that initially, somewhat harmlessly, pelted away at the metal roof quickly turned into sheets of frozen buckshot that blasted away at what now seemed like a flimsy layer of aluminum foil over our heads. The ferocity of the storm continued to build and with the graduation ceremony now officially over, the graduates, the audience and the white plastic chairs formed one clotted mass of confusion and bewilderment with nowhere to go, trapped by a canopy of ice and rain. The water began to break through the roof and drove the mass of people and plastic into slightly more defined smaller herds huddling to stay dry. By then, an inch or two of water was washing over the concrete floor and many of the “mujeres” began to stand on top of the chairs while the wheels of solution-engineering turned in the minds of the “señores” who were trying to formulate escape routes for their families.
Gradually, packs began to break away from the crowd, making desperate runs for the relative comfort of the vehicles parked outside campus on a steep slope pointing skyward. We finally decided to make a run for it and were immediately drenched as we navigated icy concrete and mud-slicked rocky sidewalks covered with sleet. Rivers of rainwater gushed down the hillside through crevices and spilled into the street where people were cramming inside the rapidly opening-and-slamming doors of foggy SUVs, pick-ups, Bugs, and Brasilias. With the rivers of muddy water came rocks, walls of them, blocking roads and re-routing water and debris to make every way out impassible. The narrow road where 9 of us were stuffed into Papi’s brand new white Montero was jammed for over an hour before cars finally begin picking their way down the hill. The first road we took was blocked by rushing water and newly dislocated layers of rock that tumbled down from the mountains in angry torrents of mud and sludge. The 2nd and 3rd roads were blocked too. Papi was communicating intermittently with Chris and Juber via cell phone to see what kind of progress they were making in their truck.
Finally, after numerous attempts at various routes, we made it out and eventually home. Lines of industrial looking trucks were queued where previously passable roads had existed, and people stood around outside, displaced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Upon arrival at the Delgadillo home, there was no electricity, so we burned candles and huddled together sharing delicious food that Mami had cooked, and drinks of whiskey, dulce de leche liqueur, and white wine that Juber and Papi were jovially serving up. At 1 in the morning, Papi safely delivered Vee and I to our condo where the elevators were non-functional but all else seemed intact. The rain had stopped, but the foreboding approach of morning lay ahead, and we knew that when the sun came up, the true destruction of the storm would be revealed. Exhausted, we slept.
In the morning, we learned through the online version of Los Tiempos that so far, 4 people have been killed, and numbers more are missing. It is being said that last night’s storm was the worst here in twenty years, and the third worst in the last 50. And of course, it was all perfectly timed to coincide with the South American Community of Nations Summit that Evo Morales is hosting next door at Hotel Portales where the most important leaders and ambassadors from all of South America and abroad are congregating. The city is awash in water, mud and rock, while hundreds if not thousands of workers hired to clean it up are busily trying to get things back into shape for the important visitors who will be here the next few days. Vee tried to go to the gym, but it was flooded. The nice restaurants on the boulevard where foreign dignitaries will be wanting to dine this weekend are attempting to dig out from the mud. It was only a few days ago where the same scene unfolded, and that was a far less violent storm. Let’s hope the worst is over. Tonight, for Vanessa’s graduation “prom” party, we are keeping our fingers crossed for clearer skies…conejitos!
You can see pictures from graduation here. And a few shots of the area around our condo the morning after here.
Things were going wonderfully, with the parents ceremoniously walking their proud newly graduated sons and daughters down the center aisle to accept their diplomas, have their tassel flipped from one side of their cap to the other, frozen momentarily for the obligatory snapshots, and then directed to have a seat next to their other cap-and-gowned pals. We the friends and family members were comfortably seated in rows of white plastic chairs happily chatting away, people-watching, popping up and down and moving around to navigate the best angle for our digital cameras and video cams. It was a very pleasant atmosphere outside beneath the sturdy yellow steel-pillar and silvery corrugated aluminum roofed canopy where during the school day, the students probably played futbol(soccer) or baloncesto(basketball).
Then, the dark night sky began to flash. The soothing breeze soon intensified into gusts of wind that blew the decorations hanging from above back and forth while the curtains behind the stage whipped at the legs of the administration folks seated there. And, like a bugle call to a cavalry charge in battle, a piercing crack of thunder announced the onslaught of a storm sweeping in from the peaks of the Andes above. Only moments later, just as the caps were being tossed into the air, all hell from above broke loose.
The wind grew stronger still, and the rain that initially, somewhat harmlessly, pelted away at the metal roof quickly turned into sheets of frozen buckshot that blasted away at what now seemed like a flimsy layer of aluminum foil over our heads. The ferocity of the storm continued to build and with the graduation ceremony now officially over, the graduates, the audience and the white plastic chairs formed one clotted mass of confusion and bewilderment with nowhere to go, trapped by a canopy of ice and rain. The water began to break through the roof and drove the mass of people and plastic into slightly more defined smaller herds huddling to stay dry. By then, an inch or two of water was washing over the concrete floor and many of the “mujeres” began to stand on top of the chairs while the wheels of solution-engineering turned in the minds of the “señores” who were trying to formulate escape routes for their families.
Gradually, packs began to break away from the crowd, making desperate runs for the relative comfort of the vehicles parked outside campus on a steep slope pointing skyward. We finally decided to make a run for it and were immediately drenched as we navigated icy concrete and mud-slicked rocky sidewalks covered with sleet. Rivers of rainwater gushed down the hillside through crevices and spilled into the street where people were cramming inside the rapidly opening-and-slamming doors of foggy SUVs, pick-ups, Bugs, and Brasilias. With the rivers of muddy water came rocks, walls of them, blocking roads and re-routing water and debris to make every way out impassible. The narrow road where 9 of us were stuffed into Papi’s brand new white Montero was jammed for over an hour before cars finally begin picking their way down the hill. The first road we took was blocked by rushing water and newly dislocated layers of rock that tumbled down from the mountains in angry torrents of mud and sludge. The 2nd and 3rd roads were blocked too. Papi was communicating intermittently with Chris and Juber via cell phone to see what kind of progress they were making in their truck.
Finally, after numerous attempts at various routes, we made it out and eventually home. Lines of industrial looking trucks were queued where previously passable roads had existed, and people stood around outside, displaced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Upon arrival at the Delgadillo home, there was no electricity, so we burned candles and huddled together sharing delicious food that Mami had cooked, and drinks of whiskey, dulce de leche liqueur, and white wine that Juber and Papi were jovially serving up. At 1 in the morning, Papi safely delivered Vee and I to our condo where the elevators were non-functional but all else seemed intact. The rain had stopped, but the foreboding approach of morning lay ahead, and we knew that when the sun came up, the true destruction of the storm would be revealed. Exhausted, we slept.
In the morning, we learned through the online version of Los Tiempos that so far, 4 people have been killed, and numbers more are missing. It is being said that last night’s storm was the worst here in twenty years, and the third worst in the last 50. And of course, it was all perfectly timed to coincide with the South American Community of Nations Summit that Evo Morales is hosting next door at Hotel Portales where the most important leaders and ambassadors from all of South America and abroad are congregating. The city is awash in water, mud and rock, while hundreds if not thousands of workers hired to clean it up are busily trying to get things back into shape for the important visitors who will be here the next few days. Vee tried to go to the gym, but it was flooded. The nice restaurants on the boulevard where foreign dignitaries will be wanting to dine this weekend are attempting to dig out from the mud. It was only a few days ago where the same scene unfolded, and that was a far less violent storm. Let’s hope the worst is over. Tonight, for Vanessa’s graduation “prom” party, we are keeping our fingers crossed for clearer skies…conejitos!
You can see pictures from graduation here. And a few shots of the area around our condo the morning after here.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Bolivia - Wilstermann Campeones!!!
Today, was the futbol Super Bowl of Bolivia. The Wilstemann, of Cochabamba, beat an excellent team from Potosi, 2 goals to 1 in a dramatic final full of scary injuries, a few yellow cards and lots of emotion. Vee's father and brother Chris tried to buy tickets for the game, but it was sold-out, so we all got together to watch it at D'Kaffe downstairs. This is the first championship the Wilstermann have won in about 10 years, and the city is celebrating like mad. Outside, I hear the cars passing beeping 3 times for "Wil - ster - mann" and everyone is wearing their team colors of red-white-and-blue, including Vee and I of course. We are so excited to have been here for such a huge victory and to have experienced a few of the games this season "en vive" against Santa Cruz, and La Paz. Now, if we could only get those Philadelphia Eagles to follow-up with an NFL Super Bowl victory...
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